


the fuck not given

by anatomically_correct_rainbow



Category: Original Work
Genre: and are sarcastic little shits about it, any similarities between characters here and real people are compleatly intentional, basically slightly overpowered characters go on quests, hi, im basically posting it here cause i need like a tiny tiny bit of motivation to actually write, so like, so....yeah, this is an original fantasy thing, to the person reading this who isn't my friend who i sent this to, ya'll know who u are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:09:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21575803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatomically_correct_rainbow/pseuds/anatomically_correct_rainbow
Summary: So two characters go on a chaotic adventure. shit happens, i'm not really sure of it myself rn, since i haven't even started this. Plot outline??? never heard of her (actually i have, but she's tied up in my basement, never to see the light of day again).
Comments: 1





	1. Chapter 1

NOW

Honestly, the worst part of it all was the rain.  
It didn’t even have the decency to pour, but rather drizzled along miserably, slowly but steadily soaking the two figures trudging up slope after slope. It trickled through cloak seams and through bags, until the hard bread, cheese and dried meat all had the faint flavor of rainwater. The blankets sloshed when unfolded, Eris’ spiky hair flopped morosely about her shoulders, and even Metis had given up on keeping dry. They had only left the luxuries of warm beds and lukewarm meals for a week, but already they felt more distant than any far-away lands of legend.  
Leaving had been a hard decision, and one they doubted silently, whenever ‘Tis rolled over in the middle of the night onto a hidden fire-ant hill, or Eris took a large bite of cheese only to find half a squirming maggot wiggling inside. But there was little point in that. It wasn’t as if the high command was known for welcoming back deserters with open arms, and besides, maybe rejoining an ancient evil society was not something one should aspire towards, regardless how otherworldly soft their pillows were in comparison to the hard-packed, rock studded clearings. 

BEFORE

Metis hurried along the narrow hall, almost toppling over three troll-like figures (it was never polite to assume fae origin). She seemed to be in a perpetual state of tardiness, every clock watch and timepiece magicked to conspire against her (which, given where she was, was not entirely unlikely). She paused to compose herself behind a large oak door, and swept in with her best attempt at grace. Of course, her lab partner was already sprawled at the desk, her feet precariously lounging between beakers in a nonchalant manner. Eris was careful to project a carefully crafted air of indifference to the dangerous substances surrounding her, in order to mask the great care she took in placing her feet at the exact right angle so as not to obscure the purple steam coming off the simmering milkweed root, or at least that’s what Metis liked to hope.   
Eris swept a lock of green-blue hair from her forehead, and attempted the no small feet of measuring out unstable poppy-petal extract while maintaining an air of relaxed boredom, but it was her roots that gave her away. In their first year, Eris had managed to turn her hair into a highly accurate mood tracker, so that it shifted colors in accordance with her emotions. Of course, what she had failed to take into account was her craftsmanship being slightly too precise, her hair now betraying her every well-hidden sentiment to anyone with even a vague knowledge of color-charting. She fixed this by dying her hair outrageous colors, masking it’s treacherously shifting iridescence under an ever shifting rainbow of her own making. But it was at times like this that the keen observer could detect the hint of orange roots betraying her concentration and slight annoyance.   
Metis, who, in almost two months of reluctant partnership had learned to detect Eris’ moods with almost as much accuracy as her hair charm, didn’t bother with an apology as she slid into the chair. Wordlessly, she grabbed the notes thrust in her direction, and skimmed the formulas before finally resting on the scribbled margins.   
“Volume 57 of the Armeria maritima, chapter 6 ref. Blond librarian wasn’t suspicious, they were just trying to flirt. Unrelated, but u may want 2 avoid the supply closet in the botan. sect. for a while. Fuc u if ur late again Tis”  
It took considerable effort not to roll her eyes, but Metis somehow managed to pull out her goggles and begin on her section of the day’s assignment, the instructions helpfully tossed on the floor in the vicinity of her chair.

NOW  
They decided to make camp in the third clearing they reached. While not ideal, it was advantaged by the clear lack of bear droppings or wear-creature tracks, and since the sun was setting, it would be preferable to avoid risking traveling anywhere else, as appealing as the prospect of a sheltered cave actually sounded. While both had had plenty of experience sleeping rough, Eris was decidedly the more nature oriented one, so she took over unpacking the tent and building a fire with all the solemnity of digging her own grave. While usually they may have tossed sarcastic quips pr bickered over astronomical theory or eldritch philosophy,the weather had reduced them both to grumpy silence. After they had wrestled the tent into position, Eris set about to building a fire in the rain, a Sisyphean feat rendered banal by her carefully honed fire-crafting, while ‘Tis closed her eyes and filtered the dust and grime from the rainwater accumulating with unnatural speed and accuracy in the flask she held aloft.   
The small and withered silver lining to the whole thing was that, tonight, finally the silver sparrow had been fixed, so neither of them would have to stand watch. The small aviary device had finally had every colegium tracking spell wiped off, along with getting a few essential elements re-welded, and was now ready to begin a new life of guard-bird/alarm clock. The only downside to this being that re-wiring it’s entire mechanism had the unintended side-effect of turning it’s once melodious trills into shrill croaks, not unlike the sound of a bag of church bells being unceremoniously dropped down a mine-shaft full of cats. They named it Bobby, and set it on one of the driest branches within reach. Eris stepped back to admire their handy-work, finally uttering the first thing that night that could not be categorized under “profanity” (at least not exclusively).   
“This is the best fucking invention ever made, and we just made it not evil. I-We are fucking geniuses, the technical mechanic department can go die” She surveyed the small silver bird with almost parental pride. It’s head fell off.   
She scampered after it on the muddy forest floor, finally pulling out the shiny silver blob and hastily wiping it off on the edge of her cloak. Placing her fingers gingerly around its neck, she focused on welding the silver filaments to the corresponding points on small bird’s head (one of the many reasons for it’s absent singing voice)  
“Maybe… just one more night of standing watch” Metis suggested wearily, although the mere thought of focusing mindlessly on diverting water droplets away from a dying fire made her envy silver sparrow.   
Eris, despite being able to sustain a fire merely by holding on to a stick was nonetheless inclined to agree with her friend’s sentiments. While they were both close to collapse, only one of them had the ability to get a fire started in a drizzle, and only one would react to being awoken in the dead of night from a deep slumber with anything resembling human coherence, so the decision was made wordlessly, and, after a humble dinner of rain-flavoured bread and ham, Eris pulled the metal mechanical from her pocket and began to tinker with its many gears under the small beam of light available only to those with the ability to set their nose on fire (while sober and without lasting consequences, that is)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things continue to happen. we are all shocked by this. consistent tenses? in my original work? more likely than you think.

BEFORE 

The knife hit the target and shattered. A frustrated groan echoed from the other end of the hall. In the three weeks Metis had been working at her metallurgy module, her aim had drastically improved. The integrity of her iron daggers had not. She sighed and pulled out another handful of iron shavings from the crate next to her and focused. She could get the metal to twist and bend into shape, but beyond that, anything stronger than a gentle breeze was likely going to be the end of it. She tugged at her ring and took a swig from the canteen at her hip. Absentmindedly, she made the water simmer and then cool, an easy trick when dealing with small quantities, that amounted to making molecules vibrate at the right speeds and then stop very suddenly. While technically a compound, water was easy enough to deal with, and boiling water was something most gifted housemaids could do anyway. She glared at her work and began again, carefully fusing the chips of iron to each other, atom to atom, like a puzzle. Before starting this course she had actually enjoyed puzzles. She drew a deep breath and took aim. 

The door flew open and a crumpled figure burst in dramatically. As the dagger flew, the figure tossed an arm up, causing a small wall of flame to briefly flare up in the middle of the room. The blade fell to the ground in a molten lump. Eris grinned devilishly as she kicked the deformed weapon across the room. 

“Show off” Metis sighed, picking it up. “Also were you specifically waiting for me to throw that so you could make an entrance” 

Eris widened her eyes in the picture of angelic innocence. “I was merely trying to protect myself against this vile unprovoked attack. Although, I doubt it would have done much damage” she added, her voice taking a mocking undertone. Metis glared

“That never would have even hit you, I was aiming about five feet to the left”

“And that is  _ exactly _ why I worried for my life”

Metis scowled. Her lab partner turned reluctant research partner had the unique talent of balancing just between  _ amiably witty _ and  _ insufferably horrible _ , but she usually landed dead center on infuriating. She pocketed the burt lump and crossed her arms. 

“As much as I delight in your company, I assume that you did not tear yourself away from your busy schedule merely to criticise my marksmanship”

Eris’ face turned serious, or as serious as it could ever be, what with her blue curls and boyish grin always simmering under the surface. 

“Profesor Scelus said you would be here. Look, i know primary exams are in a week, but I finally got an answer from the second assistant librarian librarian”

“Oh, so  _ that’s _ what you were discussing in the grammar study room. He seemed to agree with you quite a lot.”

Eris pretended to try to look sheepish, but even her content grin only lasted a few seconds before she returned back to her uncharacteristic seriousness. 

“Half the collection we were looking at last week was withdrawn indefinitely by a faculty member for “reviewing and updating”. That’s the second time that’s happened, it’s clearly not a coincidence anymore”

Metis sighed deeply. While disturbing, the news in itself was unsurprising. 

“And you ran here, ready to face death by my blades just to tell me that”

“There’s also this” Eris pulled out a small object from her pocket and tossed it across the room, enjoying the wide eyed look of disbelief that spread over her friend’s face. 

NOW

Some hours later, as the silver gears in front of her began to blur, Eris stretched and turned toward the tent, yanking the flap open unceremoniously. Groggy, Metis stepped outside rubbing her eyes and glowering. Eris handed her the silver bird. It’s head, while firmly attached to its body, was now split open down the middle. 

“DON’T you fuckingdare touch the head... just...doyourtailthing” She grumbled, ducking into the tent, a gentle snore following almost immediately after (which, after a week of traveling, Metis was starting to believe wasn’t just for show). 

They had been passing the device back and forth as a way to keep alert, but neither of them had much luck in actually getting it to work beyond it’s magical cast (that they had thoroughly stripped from it). It probably hadn’t benefited from being tossed around pockets for half its life either. ‘Tis sighed and focused on the tail feathers, each delicately carved silver filigran perfectly designed, but utterly impractical. The module on working precious metals had barely just begun before, well... the point was silver still moved unbearably slow under her touch no matter how she focused.

She missed the books with clear instructions, and the well lit study rooms and many nooks and crannies. Just because a building turns out to be infested with demonic fiends doesn’t mean it’s any fault of the brickwork or the library (most of it isn’t even demonic texts anyway). She squinted at the tail feather in the dim light of her shoulder lamp and the slowly dying embers and gave up. The sliver of sky above was too cloudy for any moonlight to help, and since her nose remained un-flammable (at least, not as sustainable fuel), she set aside her project for fear of giving the thing an extra leg. Glowering, she prodded the dying embers with a stick, and pulled the ring of her thumb again. It was unimpressive, a dark brown metal, standard issue for all alchemical students regardless of their branch of study. It was the rarest material, at least that she was aware of, with the most complicatedly magical forging process known to man or elf (but probably not dwarf), or at least known to the men at the colegium who were said to know all possible forging processes.The result was the entirely non magical septamium, unimaginatively name because of its blend of seven essential materials. A fully fledged alchemical molder would have to separate them, and reshape them into a seamless ring of seven distinct seamlessly bonded stripes, which of course resulted in as many kinds counterfeit souvenirs as there were ilusion-crafters, mages and smiths willing to turn a profit. Metis distinctly remembered trying not to wretch at the sight of a seven layer cake her bio-sorcerer friend had presented her with on her last birthday. She scoffed at the memory. Liberal-magics majors…

She turned the ring over in her palm and replaced it on her finger, just one of so many plain bands she wore. Gazing into the embers, she tried not to think about all the things she missed. She wished she still had coffee, but at least the rain had stopped.. 

The clearing seemed to grow darker, a black spot in and endless dark wood, curling up the side of a dark hillside below the dark mountains, under the dark sky, a world too dark even for shadows. There's the soft sound of owls hunting, chasing rats through the undergrowth, and the fainter swish of far larger things chasing owls through the trees. A wolf howled, but without the moon it feels half-hearted, almost bored. In the whispered cacophony, there is a lack of sound that stands out. Somewhere very near, something is listening. Metis straightened up, her iron rings and iron bracelet sliding to form a dagger in her palm. The bushes seemed to straighten up to greet her. Adjusting her blade, she turned around just as the nearest bushes exploded with black feathers.


	3. more like 1/2 of chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's shorter than usual

NOW

Eris woke up to a faint rustle and an ominous feeling in her gut, the kind only brought on by trouble or the worst of hangovers (so the kind only brought on by some kind of trouble). She poked her head through the flap of the barely held together tent just in time to see a monstrous raven make the oddly smooth transition into what she knew to be an equally monstrous boy. As his beak shifted seamlessly into a razor sharp smirk, the raven boy tossed his black curls and brushed a feather off his shoulder (something which in itself was enough of a magical complication to make her head hurt). His blue eyes regarded Metis, who clutched a dagger only inches from his face, immediately sliding towards the tent and narrowing slightly. Motherfucker....

BEFORE

“Ok, this is it, I’m gonna fucking rip his throat out”

Eris looked like she meant it too, and the fact that she’s clutching a knife does nothing to improve her murderous vibe, even if it is just one of the dining hall standard issues, the ones that barely cut through fried chicken. Metis sighed and glared at her pointedly, trying to convey through a subtle angle in her eyebrows something along the lines of “please, please don’t start, the caretaker will never let us hear the end of it if we get blood on the linoleum and we’ll both get suspended, let’s not kill the archmage’s son before graduation” or maybe “NO STABBY”. Famous for the alarming speed at which she can get herself into messes, and the almost equal speed with which she can weasel out of them Eri’s glare is no empty threat, but even she can see the tactical disadvantage of eviscerating someone in the middle of a crowded hallway. 

She resolved, instead, to grumble obscenities under her breath, her roots now invisible against her bright red hair dye, and return Metis’ glare in a “I really, really,  _ really  _ want to kill this guy and you are being an inconvenience” way, or maybe in a “YES STABBY” way. The offending party, oblivious to the struggle for his life silently going on between two pairs of stony eyes and animated eyebrows (the latter mostly on Eris’ part), laughed at another snide remark from one of his rougue-ish band of polished thugs (if such a thing was even possible).

“Eris…” her friend started warningly, as she half-rose from her perch on the window ledge, her features tense. A gale of laughter erupted from the crowd gathered around the target of her withering stare (and probably, soon enough, her knife).

She relaxed slightly, or at least did her best impression of “languidly at ease” as a figure of “authority” (as some of the professors liked to think of themselves) rounded the corner, combed hair and hopeful eyes betraying them as a novice, but the signet ring, too big for their finger was enough to get the small crowd to scatter. Metis flashed the professor the latest forgery of a certain official paper or other that offered some explanation as to their lawful presence in that particular hallway. After a superficial one-over, they hurried off leaving only the all too familiar lingering scent of coffee, stress and misery of the staff room (or the entire university) faintly trailing behind.

Eris deterred from her homicidal intentions by the sudden lack of a potential victim returned her attention to the view outside the second-floor window. The courtyard below was packed with about al dozen miserable elemental students laboring through wind conjuring in the bleak October chill (which they were, to be fair, contributing significantly to). 

“Wish they’d start on bloody sunshine and butterflies conjuring soon” Metis tried, but the intensity had not gone out of the dark green eyes yet, so she quickly gave up on attempting any lighter topics (a pun she was secretly very proud of).

“I can’t believe it’s legal to be that much of a shithead” Eris grumbled, one eye still out the window. “I thought people like those became extinct with the invention of the written word or something.”

“I don’t know why that would affect anything, I’m pretty sure most of them can’t read anyways”

“No... I distinctly heard the dumber blond one read out his work in Histories… not sure he’s mastered writing yet though, but he’s getting close”

“Really? How wonderful a process evolution is. Maybe next year he’ll be able to count to 20”

They sank back into silence, as Metis tried and failed for the fifth time in the past 15 minutes to concentrate on a paragraph about cell division or Elf-dwarf relations in the 3rd century, or some other scholarly topic of the sort. Neither of them mentioned the one member of the group who was not only able to read and write, but showed great proficiency in both, along with every other aspect of human (and inhuman) existence, except maybe “not being an evil shithead carbon copy of his father” or "not spending 58% of the time raking his hand through his curls in a roguishly handsome way"   



End file.
